Friday, April 25, 2008

After the forbidden fruit.If life is a matter of days lived.Time of existence is limitedNo hideous thing or beauty is sparedThe rose is remembered while its petals are red lush.Exquisiteness, colour, fragranceIt sheds and gets nothing back.Decay is sure.But there is no funeral for roses.

In funerals I’ve seenMany roses thrown on the gravePerhaps it is the softness of the petalsor the certainty of deaththough we live and are beautifulour death is as inevitable.Life is brief.Death is elusive and definite.Mocking humouring the young

The end is not the worstIt is the first invitationHolding you like a babyBreast-feeding you the pleasures of lifethat will have you deceased before you’re done living.Picking at the rose ‘till it‘s a dry thorn.

Like Ozymandias’ fine empireA boastful intimidating statue for all to see and tremble.All the poet saw was a kingdom of rubble.Ozy tricked by the illusion of immortality that eludes us all.Cheated to believe we are invincibleSo we live as we wish.We steal, lie and demand our rightsAfter all we are the centre of the universe.

But there are no monuments for rosesSweet death shrivelled up and crispIt does not insist on living more than its due dateTo live forever it must die

We are not rosesOur longing for immortality is not wrongin Eden it was lostThe only hope is deathIf we choose it before it chooses usPlant ourselves in the soil of the originalundefilable immortalWe live foreverWe no longer need statuesOur legacy has already begunDeath will not define itLiberated from its poisonous pleasuresLife holds eternityLife lives foreverexalted above all powersforever life will be